


Fighting for your life

by biteinsane



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Mystery Trio, Some fighting, cursing, fidds' robots make appearances, mentions of drinking, probably also drinking in the future chapters, robot violence is something that will happen more than once, stan encourages it, underground fighting, will have any and all warnings before each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7201649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biteinsane/pseuds/biteinsane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Fiddleford is called to help Stanford with his project, he finds himself helping out a stranger from getting hurt (or worse) from a fight they are obviously not meant to win.</p><p>Much to his surprise, the stranger might not be any normal off the street stranger when he has a face that looks like his old college buddy. What a way to met the person you only heard about from a roommate and only when he was flat-out drunk. What have you gotten yourself into Fiddleford Hadron McGucket?</p><p>--</p><p>A Mystery Trio fixer-upper of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stan's having one of those long days.
> 
> Warnings: Mentions of fighting. And unhygienic habits.

It’s been a long day for Stanley Pines.

It’s been a long year for Stanley Pines, but the last week has been one of the worst. 

Stan took a deep breath as he leaned into the cold brick wall behind him rubbing his jaw. He just got out of a run in with a few old ‘buddies’ that didn’t take kindly to his idea of a good time. Stan won fair and square.

> _‘How do you even cheat at pool?’ Stan laughed shrugging his shoulders._
> 
> _They didn’t really like the tone in Stan’s voice and tried to knock it out of him._
> 
> _It was a good thing that Stanley Pines was great in PE. He was gone before another hit was thrown at his direction tripping one of the other men on his way by._

He ran a hand through his hair. 

“Gross,” he mumbled to himself as he felt the grease that covered his hair. He couldn’t remember the last time he took any kind of shower. He couldn’t even remember the last time he saw a proper shower. Gas station bathrooms can only get you so far. Some times the workers won’t even give him the keys to the bathroom. Stan didn't blame them, he looked as homeless as he was.

He sighed rubbing the hand on his jeans and wrapped his arms around his legs. 

Stan had 2 dollars. Enough for a few gallons of gas. Enough to get out of this town and on to the next. He had a new idea to try out. Another million dollar idea to try out on some new bunch of suckers.

“Gonna get it this time,” he pushed himself up patting his legs. “Gotta get it this time.”

He started down the street to his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real first chapter will go up later this week.
> 
> BUILD THE SUSPENSE or something.
> 
> I have been wanting to write something like this story for years cause I'm very picky about how people write fighting, so expect fighting. Nothing too graphic...probably but you can tell me if I need to mention it anywhere or need a bigger warning.
> 
> If I think I might be going too far in later chapters, I'll put the graphic violence warning on it, but you got to tell me if it needs to go on earlier. I honestly cannot tell if I take something too far so don't be afraid to speak up.


	2. It's a pleasure to finally meet you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiddleford just wanted to get home, but what kind of man would he be to let another get injured on his watch?
> 
> Warning: Blood and mentions of drinking. And robots.

Fiddleford was walking home from the corner store when he heard a commotion. A pretty loud commotion for this early in the evening and when he followed what he guessed were the voices causing it, he found it.

Down a small street, he saw 3 men before he ducked behind a white picketed fence to avoid any attention directed toward himself. He ran a hand down his face.

"In daylight!" He whispered to himself. "Better take the longer way home..."

He was just turning around avoiding any attention that could have been directed toward him when a yell rang out. It didn't sound like who ever it was was in real bad pain but it sure did sound like someone expecting worst.

Fiddleford took a deep breathe, straightened himself up, and slumped to his knees. "There's no way in hell I can do this..." He started pulling at his hair gently biting his index finger. "I don't know what's going on between them." He leaned back into the fence. He could go find some kind of police, but he knows by the time he finds one, they'll either be gone or worse. He hoped it would rather be the 'gone' route but he's never been a lucky man.

He almost slumped over completely when something fell from his coat pocket. He stared at the little object for a second before he heard another yell. This time it was a pained yell, he knew it. Fiddleford heard enough.

"Best I have," he grabbed the object quickly standing up, "and all I got."

He took another deep breathe before closing his eyes and rolling the object into the street. He didn't dare to take a peek from his hiding spot. He didn't even open his eyes.

The noise from the rolling action got the men noticing. He was surprised it was loud enough to get their attention. There was some kind of conversation but they were talking too fast and too low for Fiddleford to hear what was said, but they were interested. He took out another object from his coat, a small rectangle with one button, and held it tight in his hand, thumb hovering over the button. He held his breathe as he heard the voices and footsteps heading closer.

Fiddleford slammed down on the button.

He heard muffled noises and a lot more confusion but nothing serious yet. He heard movement of metal on concrete and screeching of hinges. He really needed to oil these things more often but he wasn’t sure how it got into his pocket in the first place. Last few days were a bit of a blur. He hasn't been this sober in a long time.

When he heard claws dragging, Fidds took a peek over the fence to see if anything was really happening or just another fail out. He saw the 3 men backing up a little from the now reptilian-like metal creature as it crawled toward them. He really needed to prefect the walking on it before he made a bigger version, it was using its front limbs to crawl while the legs dragged behind. He felt sorry for the poor thing. Its tail twitched back and forth as it gained speed, mouth opened wide like a gator with just as many teeth.

It started clicking its teeth as it snapped at the men's feet. Fiddleford made mental notes as he watched the creature have a run around with the men. He needed to make the snout longer for better grip when it bites down. Longer tail to use as another weapon with hooks at the end to catch anyone off guard and possibly throw them off balance trying to get the creature off. Oh, he wish he had some paper on him! He had a prefect idea on how to design the new back legs with more bulk to have it use those for faster movement so it could run. Maybe even get it hop. To snip at more than just toes.  


As he watched, the creature finally hit its mark. It snapped down on the front of one man's shoes chomping hard enough to go through the shoes. The wearer lost it, and Fidds could only guess its teeth went through some toes. The man tried to shake off the creature and for a long few seconds, it didn't let go until another man stomped on its tail. There was a yelp before the creature's teeth were ripped from the shoe but there was red that followed with it. The robot didn’t even open its mouth.

"I'm not looking forward to cleaning that..." he whispered.

He saw the two other men grab the injured one and drag themselves all out of the street. Fidds ducked down quickly as they ran passed by yelling something about a monster as said monster was still trying to give chase moving even slower than before. He watched them go for a moment before pushing the button again and turning down into the street.

There was another man but by the looks of his state, he wasn't with them or at least weren't real friends of any kind. He grabbed his un-moving creation and walked over to the man hoping to god that he was breathing.

When he got closer he could see the figure clearly and even through the scrapes and bruises, he could see the dark brown eyes blown wide from fear. The man's eyes were focused on the creature in Fidds' hand with the blood still dripping from its jaw.

"D-Don't worry! It's off!" Fiddleford gave it a wiggle showing it was lifeless. "You alri-" He stopped sort of the question when he looked more closely to the sitting figure in front of him. The man's hair was a mess and longer than he remembered but it was the same shade of brown. He had the same jaw shape and even that same red nose. There was more muscle or fat or a combination of both but it was him, it had to be him.

"Stanford?" He asked before he could stop himself running to the other bending down in the front of him with his hand out to reach for the other's shoulder. "What's going on? Why are you here? Are...Are you alright, Ford?"

"W-What?" The man snapped out of his thoughts and backed up a little. "No! No...I'm not..." He spit out some blood from his mouth before continuing. "I'm not Ford...You got the wrong g-guy. S-Sorry."

Fiddleford was in bit of shock before he could process what the other man said. _If this wasn't Stanford..._ he thought for a moment, _then it had to be..._

"S-Stanley...?" He thought he was too quiet for the other to hear but the man stiffened up almost ready to run at any moment. "You're Stanley, right?"

The other man almost started shaking his head but nodded when he saw that Fiddleford had a look of worry written on his face. "Y-Yeah, that's me…I’m Stanley.”

Fiddleford gave the other a small smile holding out his free hand. "The name's Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. It's a pleasure to finally meet you Stanley Pines."

“Uh…likewise…” Stanley took his hand and Fiddleford helped him to his feet. He stumbled a bit but regained his balance when Fiddleford grabbed his arm.

"Got you, buddy. Think you can walk? I didn't see much of that brawl but you don't look all that good after it." Fiddleford let go when Stan steadied himself. "Do you want to go to hospital?"

"N-No, no hospital. I'm fine, Fiddlesticks." Stan brushed off dirt from his jacket.

"It's Fiddleford and are you sure?" He kept his hand hovering near Stanley's shoulder. 

"'M sure.” Stanley noticed that Fiddleford was a good few inches taller than himself and frowned slightly. A stick of a man just saved his ass and was taller than him.  


"You got a place nearby?"

The man stiffened a bit at that. “Probably shouldn't go there for a while..." He looked around making sure none of the men came back. They did run away pretty fast when the thing started nipping at their toes.

"I-I live pretty close by, I was walking home when I noticed the commotion." Fiddleford said before he could stop. He wanted to hit himself thinking of letting a stranger into his home. _But ma would hit me first if I didn't offer..._

"You can rest there."

"I can't do that!" Stan almost yelled before lowering his voice with a cough. “Sorry, I can’t…t-that wouldn’t be fair to you…”

"Nonsense, Stanley." He waved off anything else he was going to say. "You're family to one of my best friends. We'll get you patched up and you can just stay the night if you're that worried about it. Ain't nothing!"

Stanley looked at him with a blank expression unsure about the whole situation but he sighed. This might be the only time he would ever get this chance in the next few years. ”Alright, I'll take you up on that offer." He looked in the direction the men ran toward. "I'm just a little afraid to go back to my car..." He whispered.

Fiddleford pretended he didn't hear what the man said. He guided Stanley farther down the street into the next to get to his place. His grip became tighter on his creation which could lead to more broken parts than it already had. What has he gotten himself into?

When he got the door unlocked, he remembered the other reason he was hesitant to bring anyone into his home. 

“Give me one second Stanley…” He grunted as he had to push the door harder to get it open enough for him to slip in and move the spare machine parts so Stanley can step inside.

"Sorry, for...the mess…" The man didn’t look in Stanley’s direction. “Some things must…must have fallen when I closed the door…it happens a lot...”

"You know, when most people say that, they don't mean it," Stanley laughed loudly slapping a hand on Fiddleford's back making him drop what was in his arms. There were papers everywhere, most of them blueprints, and notebooks opened to pages of calculations and quick sketches of projects. There were stains of who knows what everywhere there wasn't some paper or spare parts. Empty bottles littered the floor and tables.

"Yes, it's been a long month," Fidds fixed his glasses and picked up the parts again, placing them on a nearby table to sort through later. "I have been working nonstop on projects and forgot to clean up.” He left his now blood-covered invention with the other parts. They all needed some cleaning anyway.

"I'm just messing with ya, Fiddle." Stan looked around the room. "It's great to see someone working on what they love."

"Well, I'm trying." Fiddleford gave a small laugh turning a bit pink in the cheeks. He looked back at Stan and saw all the blood coming from his hands. "Oh! Your hands! I didn't notice that earlier! Uh..." He looked around. "Find a place to sit that’s not too covered in…stuff and I'll get the first aid kit.”

“Alright, thanks…” Stan watched the other man run off into another room before he pulled up a chair from the table. He grabbed the papers and bottles and placed them on the table making sure not to mess anything up if he could help it.

“Do you want anything to eat?” A voice startled Stan as he knocked over a bottle catching it before it hit the ground. “I don’t have much but I got some bread and turkey and maybe some cheese?”

“No that’s fine!” He called back placing the bottle on the table and sitting down. “I’m not too hungry after all that.”

“If you’re sure, Stanley.”

“Just Stan is fine!” Stan drummed his fingers on his knees. _This is a bad idea, this is bad idea…_

“Found it!” Fiddleford came rushing out with a big metal box in his arms. He placed the box on the table on top of all the papers and toppling over the same bottles Stan tried to keep from falling earlier. “Alright, Stan, here’s a damp towel to wipe off any blood you have.” He handed it to the other man. “I might even have a bag of peas for your eye. Let me check.”

He walked out of the room as Stan rubbed the towel on his face flinching slightly as the cold feeling touched his skin but the relief was the best thing he felt all day. He kept the towel there until he heard Fiddleford come back. He moved to try to quickly clean up the blood on his knuckles.

“Knew I had a bag of some kind of veggie.” Fiddleford waved around a bag that looked like frozen green beans. “These fella’s will do.”

“Thanks.” He took the bag from his hands and put it to his eye wincing at the chill that fell with it.

“Let me see you hand.” Fiddleford said as he pulled out another chair letting everything fall to the floor.

Stan gave over his hand as he watched Fiddleford take out some ointment from the box taking the towel off Stan’s hand. “Good news is, it’s not as bad as I first thought.” He gave it a pat before putting ointment on it.

“Fucking hell! That’s smarts!” Stan hissed.

“Oh, you big baby,” Fiddleford chuckled. “This ain’t nothing compared to what me and your brother went through in college. Almost broke my leg. More than once.”

The room went silent after that. Fiddleford wrapped up Stan’s hand and checked over the other hand, but no damage was on the other. He sighed when he finally looked Stan in the eye.

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Stan.” Fiddleford closed the box. “I can’t say I heard too many nice things about you but Stanford was drunk and being drunk usually ends up with mixed emotions.”

“It’s not like I said nice things about him when I was drunk,” Stan let out a weak laugh.

“I know the story, more or less…but I did say you could stay the night and I am going to stick to it.” Fiddleford stood up walking over to the couch. He brushed off all the papers and picked up all the bottles his arms could carry. He’ll have to really clean up in the next few days. “You can take the couch and I’ll grab you some blankets. You sure you don’t want anything to eat? It’s past dinner but I understand if you’re tired.”

“‘M fine, it’s been a long day,” He rubbed his jaw. “Probably just knock out.”

“Alright, but if you need anything, anything at all, I’ll be in the room down the hall to yer right.” Fiddleford put the bottles into a neat pile in the kitchen. “I’ll try to be quiet, but I am working on a few projects that I would like to get done soon.”

“That’s fine, I’ll be out like a light before you even know it.” Stan gave a huge grin as he sat himself down on the couch. “Where do you want these?” He held out the bag of green beans.

“Oh, they’ve been in there for who knows how long. You can keep them for your eye for a little while. Just throw them into…” He looked around and found a bag. “Just put it in here when you’re done. You’ll probably need it too with the way this day almost ended like.” He went to the nearest closet taking out some sheets and pillows handing them to Stan.

“I’ve had worse.” He took the items with a silent thank you as he set himself up on couch. He let the bag of vegetables rest on his eye.

Fiddleford eyes him suspiciously for a moment but said his goodnight and left Stan be.

Fiddleford closed his bedroom door quietly, locking it with a low click, and slumped to the floor. "What have you gotten yerself into, McGucket." He pulled at his hair before flatten it down again dragging the hand down his face. "You let a stranger into your house without much of a second thought! Real smart one you are."

He leaned his head into the door. "He'll probably be gone before I even wake up." He brightened up at that. "Yeah! Stanford did say something about what a traveler he was and what's he gonna take? Moonshine and expired milk?

"The house is in such a mess, he probably wouldn't even find any of that," He laughed at himself and picked himself up walking over to his desk. He shuffled through some of the papers that covered the chair and looked sheepishly over at his bedroom door. Fiddleford hummed to himself dragging the chair over to the door putting it under the handle. “There." Seemed to work in the movie he went to last week.

He patted his pile of now neat papers and set them on his bed, the only place in his apartment not covered in papers or bottles. The sheets and blankets were disheveled and Fiddleford couldn't even remember the last time he made the bed. Now that he thought about it, he can't remember the last time he slept in it. He fell asleep in a chair with his head in his hands more times in the last week than during college finals. It would probably do wonders for him if he actually slept in his bed.

Yeah, he can sleep the night in a bed. He can sleep off everything and tomorrow, it will be like nothing happened. No more stranger in his home. No more Stanford's estranged brother. No more letting his robots create havoc that he didn't properly plan for.

No more worry.

Fiddleford took a deep breath and fell face first into his bed. The nice and neat pile of papers was now on the floor but he didn't care. He really did want to sleep it all off so tomorrow would come and everything would be over.

He rolled over on his back, looked up at the ceiling, and realized this wasn't going to be an easy task. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair and grabbed the nearest blueprint that was on the nightstand. If he wasn't going to sleep it off, he might as well go head first into completing his machines.

It was almost 3 in the morning when he finally fall asleep with his head on the headboard of the bed, pen and blueprints still in hand.

~ ~

Stan laid down staring at the ceiling and how he hoped sleep would take him but he knew it wouldn’t. He almost didn’t trust Fiddleford, but he said he knew Stanford. It could all be a lie but Fiddleford was a stick of a person if he ever saw one. Stan was still in enough of a shape to take down someone like Fiddleford. And it’s not like too many people know he has a brother. He never opened up enough to anyone for them to know about his family. Most of the people Stan talked to seemed to guess he wasn’t in contact with anyone he use to know.

The ice melted too quickly for Stan’s liking and he placed them in the bag pushing it away from him.

He shoved a pillow in his face wanting to scream, but he just placed the pillow under his head and pretended that maybe he would fall asleep. He closed his eyes and…

There was a loud noise that came from just outside and Stan quickly shot up making sure he was far from the window. Shirking cats were heard just a few seconds after.

“It’s gonna be a long night…” He ran a hand down his face as he tried to settle down again.

The sun was up before Stan closed his eyes longer than 5 minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, first real chapter done and the most I've written for one chapter in mostly one sitting. Damn. I want to make longer chapters for this fanfic since I really don't write things all that long. I try to.
> 
> Don't know when the next one will be up since it's written in bites and pieces everywhere but don't you worry, it'll be up one day! Might get some of the fighting in that chapter. Probably gonna be longer than this one at least.


	3. We'll deal with it some way.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fiddleford is trying his darnest to get Stan to actually talk about things. Unfortunately it happens.
> 
> Warning: Cursing, drinking, and mentions of fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: "You, me and this wall you built between us"
> 
> I apologize, I didn't realize that I haven't updated this in months, time has been weird the last few of those for personal reasons and I had some trouble trying to connect events together so things are a little shaky. You know. But I am back and punching!
> 
> Though it is stated in canon about Fidds still being married when called down to Gravity Falls, I have opted to ignore it. I mean this is like an AU of an AU, I'm gonna do whatever the hell I want anyway, just thought I would state that. For whatever reason. I'll explain some things in later chapters. Maybe.
> 
> I'm just here for friendships and robots and fighting. And possible alien theories and paranormal hijinks. *thumbs ups*

A blaring alarm went off making Fiddleford jump to his feet slipping on the papers that surrounded his bed. Falling on his tailbone and hitting the back on his head on the nightstand, he curled in on himself remembering the alarm was just from his clock. He forgot he rewired it to be loud enough to hear from any room in the house. He regretted ever doing that now. He needs to start thinking of his "great ideas" when he was sober.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" Fiddleford heard a voice over the noise with loud knocking and saw the doorknob jiggle. "ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

Another panic rushed through him. There was someone else in his house...worried about him? How much did he drink last night? He doesn't remember drinking anything yesterday. He was actually sober yesterday!

Then it hit him. He helped someone yesterday from getting their ass given back to them and brought them back here to patch up. He helped Stanford Pines' twin brother, Stanley, in a fight yesterday. Oh. Stanley was still here. He didn't leave like Fiddleford originally thought he would. This...this was alright. Everything was still fine. Fiddleford could deal with this.

He let out the breath and blindly hit his alarm until he got the right button to shut it off. "Sorry, sorry!" He called back. "It's just my alarm! I'm alright!"

"O-Okay...I thought I set something off..." There was a mumble through the door that Fiddleford almost didn't hear. "I've made some breakfast if you want…”

"You...made breakfast...in this house?" He asked but he heard footsteps moving away from his door so the other probably didn't hear. Fiddleford rubbed the back of his head feeling the little bump that will form soon. He fixed the glasses on his face and pulled himself up careful not to slip on the papers again.

He blinked when he noticed the chair was now under the door handle and slapped himself when he remembered what he did last night. Now he wasn’t sure if he was sober last night. He moved it back to the desk, unlocked the door and walked out into the hallway to the heavenly smell of bacon and eggs. Fiddleford couldn't remember the last time he had a breakfast that smelled as good as this.

No, that was a lie. He did remember, but he'd rather forget.

"That's some clock you got," Stan spoke up when he saw Fiddleford walk into the kitchen. "I nearly shit my pants when it went off."

Fiddleford chuckled as he took a good look at the kitchen. It was...clean? It wasn't completely dirty or unlivable before but it wasn't this sparkly either. "You cleaned my kitchen?" The dishes were all done and the sink was empty except for a few items that Stan probably just used. Even the counter tops were wiped off.

Stan blushed a bit. "Y-Yeah...It's not a big deal, Fiddlesworth." He shrugged turning away to hide his embarrassment. "I worked as a busboy once or twice for a quick meal...it's not a big deal...I thought since you let me stay for the night, I could least do this..."

"It's Fiddleford and I thank you kindly, but you didn't need to do that," Fiddleford grabbed for two mugs from where they were drying off giving them a quick wipe with a clean rag. "Do you want any coffee? Since you made breakfast and all."

Stan nodded flipping the bacon from the pan onto plates already filled with scrambled eggs. "I...uh noticed that the milk was expired...for almost three weeks so I dumped it...sorry..."

"No, that's fine. Who knows when I would have finally tossed it." He waved him off. "Just goin' have to live with it black."

“You got any sugar at least?"

"Not much but if you take it sweet, you can have what's left." He went through his cabinets to find the jar of sugar. There was probably enough for both of them, but seeing how much Stanford always put in his coffee, his brother might be the same. He turned on the now cleaner coffee machine, added the coffee beans and water, and left it to do the work. He grabbed some silverware and the jar and went to the table. He cleared off most of the papers before he set anything down and then tried to make a neat pile with the rest. He snatched up all the notebooks and bottles on the chairs to make room for the two men to have a decent breakfast.

Stan came over with the plates of food making Fiddleford jump. He mumbled an apology before placing the food on the table and sitting down in one of the chairs.

Fiddleford went to grab the coffee as he left Stan to eat. _Gotta get a hold of yourself, McGucket_. He mentally slapped himself. _This isn't for long and he is Ford's brother. He's gotta be Ford's brother._ He took a quick look at the man eating at his table and even in the morning light, the other man still looked like his college buddy. _Kind of hard to fake that..._

He grabbed the coffee and poured it into the mugs. Fiddleford quickly downed it in one go and almost regretted it pouring more into the mug. He was gonna need that caffeine boast today, he could feel it in his bones. He let out a shaky breath and grabbed the mugs heading toward the table to finally sit down. He passed over a mug to Stanley which he took gratefully starting to add sugar. Fidds was right to let the other man have all the sugar, he was just like his twin. He wanted to laugh, it was almost like being back at the dorms eating breakfast across from Ford all over again.

Almost.

"I'll pay you back for the food..." Stan said quietly.

"What? No you don't. You cleaned my kitchen and made breakfast," Fidds crossed his arms. "More than my ex-wife ever did for me."

Stan snickered.

"If this is what I get for taking in a stranger, then hell, I would do it again if it gets the rest of the house clean!"

"I don't think many strangers do that." Stan pointed out taking a bite out of his last piece of bacon.

"I don't think many strangers are twins of one of my old college buddies either..." Fiddleford started stuffing his mouth with eggs. He hadn't had a homemade meal in a week and it was so heavenly he didn't catch what Stan said.

"What?"

"Can we...not talk about my brother? I know you probably have questions and all but I don't think I can really..."

Fidds stopped him. "I wasn't thinking, I’m truly sorry.”

"'s alright," he gave a small shrug eating the last bit of bacon.

“So why don’t we talk about what you’ve been doing for the past so many years?” Fiddleford took a sip from his mug. “You know if ya want to…before you head back to your place.”

Stan gave a little shrug grabbing his own mug and taking a gulp. “Well…I’m mostly in marketing projects of my own design.” He announced proudly with a big grin.  


“Good for you.”

“Going from job to job…I’ve traveled a lot though.” Stan scratched his chin. He really needed a shave.

“Been outside the country?” Fiddleford asked.

“Yeah, once or twice…for reasons…” He didn’t look the other man in the eye and tried to focus on something else while finishing his coffee. Stan grabbed at the first set of papers he could reach and pretended to be very interested in what they had on them.

Fiddleford raised an eyebrow but didn't question him farther. He probably didn't want to know what those reasons were. Stan can keep his secrets if he doesn't dig into Fiddleford’s that lay in his garage still needing the final touches.

Stan’s eyes went wide as a huge grin spread across his face. “Ain’t this the thing that you used to attack those guys with?” He pointed to the blueprints in his hands.

Fidds looked it over. “A prototype of it, yes.”

“Oh man! It was horrifying but great! Where’d you learn how to make these?”

“It’s always been a hobby of mine since I was a youngin’.”

“Man…” Stan’s grin only grew wider.

“You really think they’re that great?”

“Hell, these are amazing!”

Fiddleford chuckled. “Well, thank you Stan.”

“Just telling it like I sees it, Fiddles. Can't believe a guy like you is just sitting here making tiny toys and not off helping the world or whatever that crap they say on the radio.” 

"Well I ain't going to help the world with what the government would want me too, so I'll stick to my own pet projects thank you very much," Fidds pushed the empty plate to side drinking the last of his coffee. "I know last night's not gonna help my case, but I'd rather not have what I make hurt people. No matter the people."

"I like ya, Fiddleford. Glad you came by when you did. Might not have gotten out of that with just the few scrapes I did get." 

"Just helping out a fellow man." Fidds took the empty dishes to the sink as he left Stan to look through some of his old blueprints. It was kind of nice having someone who didn't really know what he did praise his work.

* * *

It took awhile, but Fiddleford convinced Stan to let him tag along to get back to his place. Stan really didn't want to go alone so he reluctantly agreed to just get it over with.

"So this...is where you live?" Fiddleford asked quietly as he stared at the red car. He immediately felt bad asking that question but it slipped. Fiddleford could tell that this wasn't just transportation. He couldn't just let him drive off after seeing all this. It could all be a well-thought out lie, but oh, was Fiddleford someone who couldn't even let a lie go on like this.

Stan turned bright red and looked anywhere but at the other man not even at his car. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and stared at his feet.

"It's...in good condition..."

Stan gave a weak smile turning to the car. "Yeah...been given 'er the best care I can give."

They stood in silence as Stan dug around his pockets to find the keys. When he went over to unlock his car, Fiddleford had enough.

"I can't just let you go like this!" Fiddleford shouted making Stan jump. "My mama would have my ass if she knew I let someone just run off who the hell knows where after seeing this!" He brushed a hand through his hair and straightened himself up. "We are going back to my place."

"What?" Stan hadn't even unlocked the door yet. The key was still in his hand in the door when Stan looked at him.

"We are taking you and your car back to my place." Fiddleford crossed his arms. "I don't know what we'll do...but I can put you to work or something. Help you get a real job somewhere. I just...maybe cause you're Stanford's brother but I just can't just let you go off even if I ain't heard anything good about you…your brother really only rants about something if he cares...in his own way."

Stan just stared at Fiddleford, mostly in shock.

"Ya got a good head on your shoulders, Stanley, so I'm gonna help you keep that head on your shoulders. You can change your mind whenever you want but mine is set in stone."

Stan sighed as he slipped into the driver's seat and gestured for the other man to get in. Fiddleford quickly ran over to get in.

"Even if I did drive off, you'd send some kind of robo after me, wouldn't you?" Stan said when Fiddleford got in. "Bet you got one on ya now with some sort of tracking thing."

"Maybe." Fiddleford gave Stan a smirk.

"You're a real piece of work, Fiddles," Stan chuckled. "But hey, we wouldn't have met if you weren't. To a beautiful friendship!" He turned on the car and started off.

"The most fucked up friendship in history I bet," Fiddleford fumbled at the seatbelt. "Meeting yer college buddy's estranged twin brother after scaring off other men with a tiny machine that I am pretty sure bit off one of their toes. What a beautiful friendship we're becoming."

"Only to people who don't know fun!" Stan laughed as he sped down to Fiddleford's house. He laughed even more when he saw Fiddleford grip on to the dashboard as all road safety went out the window.

This was truly becoming a friendship that the mechanic wasn't too sure he was ready for.

* * *

It's been four days since Fiddleford dragged Stanley back to his place and it's been four long days to get Stanley to open up more. Fiddleford couldn't even get the man to tell him what foods he liked. You'll think he was trying to pull his teeth with how much Stan fidgeted answer simple questions!

Fiddleford didn't even mention the car. And he really wanted to offer to fix it up to make the drive so much more pleasant, but the way that Stan treated it, he felt out of line just thinking it. It wasn't his car. It wasn't his life.  


This was nothing like how it was the first time meeting Stanford. Fiddleford at least had science and D D & more D to talk about with Ford, but he didn't have that with Stan. He was walking on eggshells around the other man, but he tried to be helpful. He helped empty out one of the spare rooms of his old projects, most of them falling apart, to give Stan a proper place to sleep.  


He sighed looking down at the unfinished blueprints on the kitchen table. It took up the whole table and he still couldn't focus on any part of it. He leaned back running a hand through his hair when he noticed Stan come in.

"Hello Stan," Fiddleford didn't even right himself and leaned back farther to see him.

"Hey Fiddles." Stan was wiping his hands with an old looking rag looking a bit nervous. "Can I...do you have some...towels I can use...?"

"Hm?" He barely caught what he said when Fiddleford put the chair back in the proper place.

"It can even be paper towels, hell, it can be normal paper!" Stan rubbed the back of his neck not making eye contact. "I'm just doing some car work...and this old thing isn't doing it anymore." He held up the rag.

Fiddleford looked at it for a few seconds before he realized what was being asked. He suddenly shot up almost knocking the chair over but caught it before it hit the floor. Stan jumped back a bit.

"I got some things that'll help you and you haven't seen any of my works in progresses you wanted to see." Fiddleford gave a smile gesturing for the other to follow. Maybe this can get the two of them on a subject they both knew well enough. "I have some things in my garage that are more for grease and oil than that thing."

“A-Alright." Stan followed Fiddleford a few steps behind. 

The inventor opened the door to his garage where it was just as messy as it was in the rest of the house, but a lot more to see. He even had some prototypes of an idea he had since college.

"Though, as you probably noticed, I do my work anywhere about the house, but this is where I do the more serious work." He let Stan walk in first. "It's more of an organized mess in here."

"Amazing..."

"Lot of these old inventions are failures, but ya can't learn if ya don't fail." He shrugged. "It's what my Pa said anyway, but I think he just said that so I wouldn't trash the house every time something backfired in my face."

He looked up at some of the fondly. "I also like to keep 'em around to remind myself of how far I've come."

"I know you created things but all I saw were parts and plans! Other than that lizard thing, I had no idea!" Stan was grinning now.

"Yeah, I do a lot of work here and there. Mostly pet projects but I've done a few commissions for simpler things. Good easy way to make some money you know?"

"I understand that!" The other man quickly went over to the nearest thing he could get to without tripping over parts. "I've made things before to sell but honestly most of them backfired, but these are great! Far better than the things I came up with it!”

“Thank ya kindly, Stanley.” The inventor put his hands on his hips and looked up fondly. “I’m proud of quite a few of them.”

Stan beamed as he took in some of the machines in the small garage.

_Maybe there is a bit more we have in common._ Fiddleford walked over to one of the small machines he was working on a few days ago. "What kind of things did you make?"

"Nothing like these, but like household things. Cleaning things. Had a few commercials on the east coast." Stan laughed slightly. "Never worked out. Most of them were just to try and make a quick buck. They were bad. If I could make anything even remotely like these, I would be rolling in dough!"

"You're just flattering, ain't nothing in here to really 'change people's lives' just me tinkering in my garage." He picked up one of the parts turning it over in his hands trying to remember why he stopped working on it.

"Too modest for your own good there Fiddles," he pointed an accusing finger at the other before turning back. "Anything you're really working on?"

"Let's see..." Fidds said to himself as he walked by Stan to the table. "Here it is, I stopped working on it for a bit, but trying to start my own business with computers." He picked up a box showing it.

"You mean those tiny TV sets? Or wait, no, those big ass boxes they used for NASA or whatever? Aren't they really just like typewriters?"

"Not in the least, they are very helpful once you learn how to use them and they are very easy to learn."

"Doubt that, but I'll bite," Stan eyed at the box in Fidds' hands. "I may not know much about computers but that looks nothing like I've seen."

"Oh but it is! And it's gonna have just as much power of the bigger ones. Maybe more!" Fiddleford grinned, "just think of a portable computer! You can work and not have be anchored to one place!"

"So I would be able to move that from here to, say, the kitchen?"

Fiddleford nodded.

"I can go outside with that and still be able to type?"

Fiddleford wouldn't stop his grin as he saw Stan connecting the dots.

"Okay, now that would be something."

"I know! It's so exciting! I already got so much of it working too! I'll show you," Fidds said putting the box down, opening it, and turning it on with a click of a button.

Stan's eyes grew wide as the little box's screen brightened up. "Can it do all those things?"

"It's mostly codes, not sure how much experience you had with computers, but it can only do some basic coding."

"I don't know anything bout coding," Stan gently touched the edges, "but I ain't ever seen one of those computer things remotely this size! I remember seeing the ones they used for the moon landing and those were huge! Even the ones I saw still in the windows in shops are 5 times this size. It's like a suitcase."

"Thought making it sort of suitcase like, might make it easier to carry around."

"Shit, nerd! You're a true genius up in that skull of yours!"

Fiddleford laughed. "You're just being kind. It looks like to me that you got your own way with mechanics with how much you put in that car. You can probably help me with some of these no problem."

"Doubt that. Car engines are completely different than this," he gestured to the closet thing. "Whatever it is. It probably looks like child's play next to this thing."

"Of course not, Stan. I have used all different engines to power some of my mechanics. Mostly plane engines."  

"Planes?" Stan asked. "I've never looked at a plane engine."

"So how about it?" Fiddleford held out his hand toward Stan and tried to look like he was making a business deal. "In-between looking for jobs and whatever else, you work for me."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

Stan grinned taking Fiddleford's hand. "It'll be great working with ya."

And they shook on it.

"So...you gonna tell me about that big dinosaur looking thing or we keeping that hush hush?"

* * *

"Fiddleford? Are you...drunk?" Stan came into the house carrying bags when he found the other man sitting on the floor surrounded by bottles, more papers than before, and machine parts that Stan has never seen before.

"What? No. I ain't drunk." Fiddleford let the wrench fall. "Opps, but no, I'm the most sober one here!" He picked the wrench up and waved it in Stan's direction before going back to his invention.

"The empty bottles say otherwise," he placed down the bags picking up one of the bottles on the table. He gave it a sniff and immediately regretted it. "Oh god! What was even in there? How do you drink this? I need to get you drinking something that is actually for human consumption."

"Jersey boy!" Fiddle scuffed. "Can't handle what the South got! Ford couldn't handle it either!"

"He's never been able to handle alcohol." 

Fiddleford took a gulp from a near-by bottle before slamming it down. Stan was surprised the bottle didn't break. "He couldn't even take a sip without gaging! You boys got ta learn."

Stan laughed loudly making Fiddleford look up. "I'll take you up on that."

It was Fiddleford's time to laugh and he almost couldn't stop. How many bottles did he have? He choked out 'sorrys' as he calmed himself. The last time he heard those words, Stanford was in the bathroom until morning passed out in the tub. Ass in the air. Just the thought that could happen again sent the inventor into hysterics. He started coughing and when Stan came over to pat his back, he waved him off.

"D-Don't...coughs are good..." He coughed out. "You c-could really make...someone choke...if you do that..."

"Sorry."

"F-Fine, fine." It took a minute but Fiddleford finally calmed down from laughing and coughing. "Just choking on my own spit. Haven't had a good laugh like that in awhile. Thanks fer that."

"You are welcome nerd. Glad I'm good for something." Stan went back to his bags and started putting things away in the kitchen. "I know you said don't, but I'm paying back for food. I'll eat most of it anyway."

"Yer a guest, Stanley Pines!" Fiddleford wobbled to his feet. "I know I ain't been the greatest host, but you don't haveta do all this."

"Nah, you're better than others I've dealt with and I said I'd probably eat most of it. I'm a growing boy." Stan patted his stomach.

"'Growing boy', my ass." Fiddleford gave a stretch before walking over to help.

Stan chuckled. "So...what's the genius inventor working on now?"

"I hear that sarcasm, Stanley Pines."

"Hey, I ain't the one that had to explain to the cops that a small plane engine backfired in your tiny yard scaring half the neighborhood." Stan pointed in his face. "While covered head to toe in soot. That my favorite part."

"I heard ya laughing, I know it was yer favorite part." Fiddleford glared at him.

“Don’t look at me that way, Fiddle. I mean nothing but love when I laugh,” he put a hand on his chest.

“I don’t want your love.”

“I am hurt.”

“You’ll survive,” Fiddleford looked through the bags. “Where’d you get the money for all this? I know you only had a few dollars, did you-“

“I found it.” Stan said too quickly.

“Stanley-”

"Okay, I helped some old lady across the street." Stan didn't look in Fiddleford's direction and slowly putting things on the counter.

"Alright, I am drunk so I heard ya wrong," Fidds put up his hands in defeat. "You're not a boy scout."

"You know your accent gets strong when your drunk?"

"Stop trying to change the subject."

"I mean it's not as bad as the Philadelphia accent." Stan shoved a carton of eggs into Fidds' hands. "What the hell is a 'wooder ice?' Can't be health."

"Stan, I know what you are tr-"

"Hey, the cheese steaks are great and all but you gotta know how to order them or you could end up with something disgusting. I made my mistakes and never again."

"Stanley Pines!" 

"Those go in the fridge, Fiddles."

Fidds looked down at the eggs still in his hands.

"Didja forget?" He pointed to the fridge. "Shush, you have been drinking a lot."

"Alright, alright, I get it," the mechanic opened the fridge to put away the eggs. "The knucklehead doesn't want to talk about where he got the money. Alright, I can deal with not knowing about that."

"Hey, I got us food, even some of the good parts of meat. Wasn't cheap either!" Stan handed Fiddleford a few more things to put away. "2 dollars for this whole thing! You believe that? Bet he stiffed me."

"Just tell me you didn't do anything like...illegal that could lead to police and or others at my door?" 

"Nah," Stan waved him off. "Nothing like too illegal."

Fiddleford groaned.

"I promise no one will come to your door about illegal activities. Scout's honor." 

Fidds watched him do a mock salute not dropping the frown.  


"You're not easy to please, but it's from gambling, if you must know. Normal semi-illegal gambling," Stan went back to the bags throwing a loaf of bread at Fidds, who barely caught it. "You know what to look for and you know which guy to bet on."

"WHY?" Fiddleford almost shouted.

"It's easy?" Stan shrugged. "You ask around. You watch. Place a bet and BAM got some cash in my pocket and no harm comes to me...most of the time."  


"Enough, enough. I am not drunk enough for this gimme a second." He grabbed the nearest bottle and downed most of it before slamming it down. "What are you talking about Stanley?"

"Irish fighting," He shrugged. "Might be Scottish actually. It's drunks having a go at each other most of the time. Pretty hush hush joint honestly. Reminds me of the priests from a school over that would-"

"What the hell..."

"Sorry, going off track." Stan waved his thoughts away. "Been in a few fights before. Can make a nice bit of money or a nice shiner. Whichever. Kind of fun."

"You call throwin' punches fun? There is somethin' wrong wit you Pines boys." 

"Hey, you probably know it, but I was really into boxing and let me tell you, it was fun throwing punches." Stan got into a mock stance throwing a punch just in front of Fidds' face. The other man didn't flinched and raised his eyebrow. "You're no fun."  


"Well since 'fun' to you is tryin' to knock someone out, then yep, I ain't any fun." He crossed his arms.

Stan brushed him off folding up the empty bags. "Bet you couldn't even..." Stan mumbled off.

"Couldn't even what, Stanley?"

"Bet ya couldn't even last long enough in the ring without your little toys!" Stan said louder. A bit too loud for the engineer but he was a bit drunk. Lights were getting a bit too bright for comfort right now. 

"I'll have ya know, I came from a farm. I have probably done more lifting and more pounds than you have when I was half yer age."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Fidds glared at Stan as he slammed his hand on the counter. Trying not to finch when he felt the stiffness that ran up his arm at the action. "Yer not the only one that fought off some bullies."

Stan seemed to just smirk at the other man. "Been awhile haven't it though?"

Fidds almost growled at that thought. BEEN AWHILE tsk! It's been a long while honestly. What was Stan getting at and what grave was Fidds digging for himself?

"Thought so." 

Oh, that was a shit-eating grin Stan was sporting, Fidds was not gonna let the younger man have this.

"Saved your ass, didn't I?"

"Yeah, with one of your robots. You didn't even get a speck of blood on ya."

Fidds thought for a moment. Stan was right. It was one of his machines that did all the work while he hid behind a fence. If he didn't even have the machine, Fidds wasn't sure he would have done anything. He hasn't really done anything like that since college. Was it college? He remembers punching someone in college. How long ago was that? He wasn't really sure if he could pull off punching someone now.  


But he was also drunk now.

And drunk Fiddleford was very sure he could punch someone's lights out.  


"Bet I could fight without my machines. Any of my machines."

The grin Stan would grow even wider if it could. This was way too good to pass up. He loved drunk people. "Alright there, Slim, what we bettin'?"

Fiddleford thought for a moment. Really thought. He hadn't thought that far ahead.  


Stan walked past him to the nearest table with paper. "We can work out details later," Stan rustled around for something to write with and scribbling something down. 

The engineer was too absorbed in thought to notice what the other was doing. What could he bet? Or more, what would Stan bet? Fidds wasn't too keen on taking anything of Stan's, that wouldn't be fair to him! He was homeless for however many years! Surely, Fiddleford would win the bet and Stan would have to give up something. He wasn't sure how much he liked that idea.  


"Hey ya, listening there, Fiddlesticks?" Stan poked the his cheek with a pen. "I said we can work out the details later and I need you write down what you said."  


"I'm not sure I'm up to this anymore, Stan." He rubbed at his cheek making sure Stan didn't leave any ink.

"Backing out already? Jesus."

"But I can't go making a bet if you have to too!"

"That's how bets work."

"No, I can't do that to ya, Stanley," Fiddleford said throwing his hands up. "I can't take anything from ya!"

"You're already counting me out? Maybe we should just fight it out here..."

"We're not fighting in my kitchen."

"Yeah, we don't want neighbors calling thinking there's some kind of domestic thing happening when we're just trying to see who's right." Stan rubbed his chin. "I would rather not have to explain why I gave you a black eye."

Fiddleford scoffed crossing him arms but stayed silent as he glared at the other man. Stan just laughed.

"I'm just kidding, Fiddlesticks. As much as I would love to see how we would fight in the ring, I know that's a horrible idea for so many reasons." Stan mumbled to himself. "Probably be me with the black eye anyway."

"Damn right it'll be you."

"So how bout it?" Stan slide the paper and pen over to the mechanic.

He looked at the paper before snatching it getting ready to write. "Alright, how am I doing this?"

"Write after me," Stan pulled himself up and tried to look proper with his hands behind his back. "'I, Fiddlenerd-"

"I am not writing that name."

"Whatever. 'I, Fiddlewhatever McBucket, bet Stanley Pines that I can fight in a real fight without the use of any robots and just with my bare hands.' And then sign under it or something. Make it official looking so I can use it in court."

"What court would even take this serious?" Fiddleford handed back the paper and pen. "Now ya got to sign it."

"Right, right..." Stan stared at the paper in front of him with a frown. "How is your handwriting still so clear even drunk?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will try to keep this from dying out for the next few months. I have a lot of this written just trying to piece everything together has been a little difficult.
> 
> Next chapter will have a lot of fun happening cause hey, Stan got it in writing.


End file.
